


But What About When It's Not Okay?

by NotTheKnightofTime



Category: The Fault In Our Stars (2014) RPF, The Fault in Our Stars - John Green
Genre: Afterlife, Canonical Character Death, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Internal Monologue, Missing You
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTheKnightofTime/pseuds/NotTheKnightofTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Augustus just died. Not what is there?</p><p>Hazels thoughts run rapidly. Pretty much everything backfires when you try to not think about... a certain someone. And these are the effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But What About When It's Not Okay?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for considering my fan fiction to satisfy your The Fault In Our Stars thirst! I hope you comment with any problems you might have, any criticisms or positive comments! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Close your eyes.  
Take a breath.   
Then let it out.   
But never  
ever  
let yourself get scared  
of what is going to come.

I looked up from my downcast gaze, wiped the tears from my eyes, and sighed. I looked to my phone. Okay. I looked at my hands. Okay. But oblivion? Not so okay. Not alright, not peachy, not any variation of the word. Only what came in contact with-... God damn it, I can't even think any more either. The only thing that came in contact with him and was not okay... was me. Hazel Grace Lancaster. I said I was the grenade only for him to M. Nightshamalan me. He blew up in my face. Nothing that happened between us, not that picnic, not the movie at his house, not being there to witness Isaac going through post-breakup breakdown, not having to go through an experience with that god-awful, post depression drunk of a Peter Van Houten, not visiting the house of Anne Frank, not any day before that night, mattered any more or any less than the night he left me. I know I might say this all the time.   
But

I fell in love with him the way you fall asleep.   
Slowly   
and then all at once.

He left me the same way. 

Now I sit on my bed, and I'm back where I started. Not depressed, not reading a different book, and not being off somewhere in public with... someone. But he was right. The world isn't a wish granting factory. And recognising that, even beside that flowing river, was better than having to recognise it on my own. At that last minute. Though much of what we did was better than that night. And honestly, anything could be better than that night. But his slow beating heart will always be mine. Even though, now, it isn't really... functional. And, cliche as it sounds, mine will always be buried with him. 

Yet when he started talking about himself in a past tense, sitting on that hill, over looking the skeleton playground, he really needed to know that there wasn't anyone who couldn't remember Augustus Waters after meeting him. For fucks sake, we met at the literal heart of Jesus. I don't think there was a possibility of his impression not being imbedded into my cancer infected brain after that. 

Augustus did really make a footprint on the world. He just wanted it to be bigger. But he only needed to be so big. And big it was. He even managed to attend his own funeral. But he also managed to... die. Eight days later. In the intensive care unit. Where his personal assassin managed to stop the heart I carry with me everywhere. He took me everywhere with him, but now, this is all I have. His heart. And it doesn't even work. When I was asked what the pain was now, even after that nurse asked a rating for the pain the first time, I had used the ten this time. And I think it should have been more appropriate to use the infinity for this occasion. But then again maybe not, because that should always be his. Put that right next to my heart. 

And, after the funeral, all I heard was, not my usual relationship conversations, but the words the trail behind fate like a dog. I'm Sorry. And it wasn't at all comforting or consoling, it just reminded me of the fact that he's dead.

But now, now I get to breathe with my half of our lungs. Now, I get to grieve. And, hell, his eulogy was all I needed. It made a lot more of the things I was grieving over a tad more of things to be happy about and remember. Because though they buried infinity with him, each memory of him took a little tad of that infinity. And that's how long they'll last. And really, I wish he would come get it from me. Because I never actually got a chance to say what I had to say to him. I may have gotten to speak at both of his funerals, but I didn't want to say what I needed to say to him to a crowd of strangers. But he's got a few things to tell me, too. Like, if there really is an afterlife. I'm gonna need to know, I'll be headed there in a little while. And that would really be... okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me your comments, I want as much feedback as possible, if maybe I should add some plot to it! I want every aspect comment and criticism! But thank you so much for reading!


End file.
